Why
by misaditas
Summary: SPOILERS - Season Eight through to Affinity.


After Jack O'Neill walked away from her office it took Samantha Carter fully five minutes to realise what she'd just done. Not just that she'd shown him the ring, but the deep-set agenda, the need behind that move – and what she'd hoped to achieve.She'd shown him in the hope he'd talk her out of it, say something, give her some hope. Damn it, she'd wanted him to tell her that he loved her.  
She had been a bitch. A complete, manipulative bitch.  
The realisation dawned on her and she felt the blood drain from her face. Oh my god, how could she? How could she do that to him? Disgust at her own actions churned Sam's stomach. She felt ill; physically, mentally, emotionally. She recalled the look of loss Jack had worn and it swept over her. She bolted to the nearest bathroom and threw up.

Remerging after several minutes, Sam managed to walk straight into Jack. Still hurting and anger, Jack glared down at her, the emotions dissipating as he took in her pallid face and red-rimmed eyes. Concern took over and he took her elbow, physically manoeuvring her back to her room and firmly shutting the door. Sam walked away from him, her arms crossed over her stomach. She still felt ill, but there was nothing left to come up.  
The silence stretched. Jack patiently awaited an explanation and Sam struggled to find the courage to voice it.  
Eventually Sam managed it. "I'm so sorry Jack."  
Ah, the conversation was going to be like that. Jack removed his jacket and slung it over a chair, an identification that this was 'off the record'.  
"What for?" He asked gently.  
"For doing that. For showing you... for expecting you to..." Sam stopped and sighed. "For being a bitch," she said finally.  
"You weren't being a bitch," Jack replied.  
"You don't think trying to manipulate you is bitchy? Because I do. What I did was disgusting. I was being needy, and bitchy and just about everything I swore I wouldn't when it came down to... to..."  
"You and me?"  
"Yes."

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and thought. He wasn't entirely sure what to say. Over the last few weeks a distance had developed between Sam and him, a distance he's initiated when Pete had arrived on the scene. He'd not want to get in the way of their blossoming relationship, a relationship that now appeared to have been undertaken to get his attention and make him jealous. He should be angry. He wasn't. Rather he was pleased, hugely and immensely pleased.  
"So you won't be marrying Pete then?"  
"No."  
"Do you even love him?"  
Sam turned round. She was crying, the tears running freely. She shook her head. "Jack... Jack please don't hate me. I know I deserve you to, but I couldn't cope."  
"I don't hate you Sam. I'm just trying to understand. If you don't love him, if this was all to get my attention, whether you did that purposefully or not, that means..."  
"I love you," Sam finished for him.  
Jack nodded as if to himself, then looked back at her. The strain of the last eight years was written all over her face, coupled with guilt and pain. It was more than he could bear. His hands came out of his pockets in the three strides it took for him to cross the room. He pulled Sam into a one-armed embrace, his other hand lifting to wipe the tears from her face.  
"Shhh." He murmured softly. "It's okay. I'm not that bad am I?" His question had the desired result and Sam laughed. She looked into his eyes, the pain clearing from her own.  
"Forgive me?" She pleaded.  
"I'm not sure there's anything to forgive you for Sam. Maybe you were bitchy, I was definitely pig-ignorant. I should have resolved this long before now."  
Sam said nothing. Resolve. Yes, somehow they had to; the regulations hadn't gone anywhere. She buried her face in Jack's shoulder and felt him stroke her hair.  
"Exactly how do we do that?" The question came reluctantly.  
"I don't know Sam, not exactly anyway. Maybe I can pull some strings, dammit I'm owed enough, we both are."  
"That's for sure."  
"But if I ask the powers that be they'll want to know what I want. So I need to know what to ask for. What do I want Sam? What do you want?"  
She lifted her face. He gave her strength and the fear and pain and guilt had washed away. The future was still uncertain but she knew what she wanted.  
"You," she said simply. "I want you. I want your ring on my finger." Sam smiled and saw her desire reflected in his eyes. "How does Samantha O'Neill sound to you?"

Jack replied the only way he could and kissed her.


End file.
